


The Christmas Sweater

by boazpriestly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Christmas, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boazpriestly/pseuds/boazpriestly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Dean had to do what get Cas that stupid sweater and then everything would be good again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Christmas Sweater

You fidget anxiously, shuffling from foot to foot, touching and retouching the stupid sweater on the rack. It wasn't even a pretty sweater, just an weird Christmas one with silhouette reindeer lining the bottom. But Cas loved it since the first time he saw it two years ago before he got sick. He talked about it all the time, every Christmas, like it was the one thing that would cure him and make him better. You heard all the stories as you held his hand through treatment. 

"If I got that sweater, I could fly, Dean. Far away from here." 

"Would you take me with you?" 

"If they let me."

"Who's they?" 

"No one, just -" he shuddered in pain. "Can you tell my mom that I need the medicine again?" 

You hated leaving him, even if it was to just go into the kitchen and tell Cas' mom that Cas wasn't as numb as everyone thought he was. You hated hearing her breath hitch with worry that you're bringing her even more bad news about her son. It was the worst when she cried, it made you cry too. And when you finally went back to your house you just curled up in your mother's lap and sobbed as she whispered to you over and over that angels were watching over Cas. 

You didn't always believe her when she told you that, but sometimes, like now, you caught yourself praying to them. You begged them to heal Cas, to save him. "He's only twelve," you whisper to them. "He doesn't deserve this. Please, just please, help him." 

Sometimes it worked and Cas got better for a while. He would be able to stand and walk fast enough to almost be running. He'd be able to laugh as loud as he used to, and wrap his arms around you in a hug so tight you had to tell him you couldn't breathe. But the moments didn't last long anymore, and most of the time the recoveries were just your imagination playing tricks on you.

"He isn't getting better, Dean," Bobby had told you once as you went on about how Cas had just beat you in some video game. 

"No, he is, I saw it. He was sitting up and everything," you exclaimed.   
Bobby shook his head and pulled you to him. "I'm sorry, but I was watching in the doorway. He was barely able to hold the controller, Dean." 

"No, but I saw --" The tears filled your eyes and fell down your cheeks before you were able to push them back. 

Bobby held you close, letting you bury your head against his jacket. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I want it to be real too." 

The fake recoveries happened more and more often until you finally stopped paying attention to him. Bobby was right, Cas wasn't getting better. And the closer Christmas got, the worse Cas got. So you waited until the Doctor came to the house for the last time and told Cas' parents to start making arrangements. You listened as Cas' mother and father cried, then you walked into Cas' room and crawled into the bed with him. 

"Cas?" you called, softly. "You awake?" 

He nodded. "Can't sleep when you're dying," he said like it was no big deal. 

"Don't say that," you hissed. You didn't come here to watch him befriend Death so easily. "You aren't dying, okay? Not while I'm here." 

Cas moved until he was cuddled up against your side, his cheek against your ribs. "You can't save me, my friend. Though you try." 

"Please, Cas," you took a deep, shaky breath. You weren't going to cry this time, you swore it. "please don't leave until I come back." 

"Where're you going?" He asked, a yawn distorting the words. 

"To get something, for you. To get you all better. Promise me you'll stay until then okay?" You kissed Cas' forehead and cursed at yourself when you tasted the salt drops on your lips. 

"I promise, Dean." 

You held him for a long time after that, and when you woke up his mother was on the rocking chair by Cas' bed. She watched the both of you silently, you could see the tear streaks drying on her face. You untangled yourself from Cas and climbed out of the bed and around to her. She opened her arms to you and you crawled onto her lap like you did with your mother. Cas' mom kissed your hair as she rocked you back and forth. 

"Thank you," she said after a while. 

"For what?" you asked. 

"For being with him all this time. It means a lot, to all of us." 

You didn't know what to say and she didn't continue. Instead she just kept rocking and stroking your hair until you fell back asleep. 

When you awoke the second time, you were back on Cas' bed and Cas was still fast asleep. You stood up again and grabbed your coat. You slipped out of the house and into the cold morning easily, then made your way to the store to retrieve the one thing you knew would make everything better. 

You spotted the sweater from the shop window. It was sitting on the rack, practically glowing under the glow of the Christmas lights blinking on the store's tree. Your heart raced as you entered the store. It's just a sweater, you told your self. Nothing special, except that it was everything to you right now. It would make Cas smile again like he hadn't done in months. It would make Cas and everyone else know that you love him and that you're going to hurt the most when he leaves you. And if you're lucky, it'll make Cas fly like he always wanted to. 

But as you touched it and found the tag, you realized that you might not be able to get it. It wan't expensive, just fifteen bucks, but you only had nine in your pocket. You swore and started to pace, looking at all the people in the store, wondering who would see you if you tucked it under your shirt and ran out. 

Dammit! You have to have this sweater. You need it. But you can't steal it. It would be a slap to Cas' face when he found out that you didn't get it the honest way. So you grab it from the rack and walk to the line at the register. You don't know why you do since you already know that you don't have enough to get it, but you're hoping that maybe there's a hidden sale that will knock the price down to how much you have on you. 

You wait in line for what seems like forever, and when it's finally your turn at the register you put the sweater onto the counter with shaking hands. The Cashier smiles at you and rings it up in slow motion. 

"Fifteen twenty-three," she says. 

You pull out the money from your pocket and hand it to her, praying silently that somehow you'll magically have enough. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she says. You stomach drops. "There isn't enough here." 

You bite your lip and pat your pockets, digging in them and wishing that you'll find a few extra dollars that got lost in the corners or something. There's nothing. 

"Please," you start to beg. "I need this sweater." 

"I'm sorry, hon. I can't sell it to you. You don't have enough." 

You start to look around at the people in the store again, from the cashier to the people in line behind you and back. Your heart hammering panic through your veins. "You don't understand," you say to an old man behind you. "He's sick and - and this will make him better. It's the only thing he wants and his mom says that he's running out of time. I - I made him promise not to go until I bring this back for him. Please, I --" Your voice cracks and you're about to cry for the umpteenth time, but then the old man starts to speak. 

"How much more does he need?" He asks the cashier. 

"Six twenty-three," she says. 

The man hands the girl a twenty. You look up at the man in shock. The cashier gives him back the change, then puts the sweater in a box and hands it to you. 

You take it slowly, not believing that you actually have it in your hands. You looks to the old man and rush forward, hugging him quickly. "Th-thank you," you stutter.

The man just smiles and steps up to the counter, placing his items on top. 

You turn and run out of the store as fast as you can. You don't have much time, you can feel it. But you're going to make it, you're going to see him smile again, just one last time. 

When you reach Cas' house, everyone is there. Your mom and dad, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, Cas' parents and big sister Anna. Sammy sits on the edge of Cas' bed when you walk into the room with the gift. He looks at you with red, puffy eyes. You kiss him when he reaches out to you. 

"I don't want Cas, to go, Dean," Sam says, his voice still thick with tears. 

"Me either," you whisper. You turn to Cas who's got his eyes closed as his breath comes in heavy pockets. 

"Did... you get it?" He wheezes. 

"Yeah, just like I said I would. Wanna see it?" Cas nods and tries to sit up. "Don't move, I'll open it for you. Just, open your eyes, okay?" 

The shock of blue surprises you a little, and you ache because you won't ever see it again after tonight. 

"Okay," Cas says. Sam leans forward as you put the box on Cas' stomach and lift the top. 

"Can you reach in and pick it up?" you ask. 

Cas does, with difficulty. His arms and hands shake, but he lifts the sweater and smiles wider than you've ever seen. 

"Dean," he manages. In all the two years of Cas being sick you'd never seen him cry, but the tears stream down his cheeks now. "I love it." 

You help Cas put on the sweater as he lies down, and then, as if some magic spell has been cast on him, Cas sits up and leans forward, pressing a kiss to your mouth. Everyone in the room gasps in unison. 

It's your first kiss. 

"Thank you." Cas says, laying back down. 

"Di-did it save you?" You ask, still reeling from the kiss. 

Cas smiles again and nods. "More than you will ever know." 

Cas scoots over and you crawl into the bed with him as Sam climbs on top of the both of you. 

Cas makes it until one in the morning on Christmas Day, and then he passes away in his sleep. You try to bury the sweater with him at the funeral four days later, but Cas' mom tells to keep it. 

"He'd want you to have it," she says as she hugs you. 

So you put it on a hanger when you get home and hang it on a nail that your dad hammers into the wall just for the sweater. 

-

"Daddy! Daddy, get up! It's Christmas!" He screams as he jumps on your bed. 

You look at the clock on the nightstand. "It's five thirty in the morning," you groan. "Wait until seven."

"But that's too long," he whines. 

"Then go wake up your brother instead," you tell him. 

His breath hitches with excitement, "Okay!" He jumps of your bed and runs down the hall to your oldest son's room. 

Lisa turns over to you and laughs. "You just started World War Three, you know that, right?" 

"GET OUT!" You hear Ben yell. 

"Totally worth it," you say. 

"You restocked the first aid kit, right?" she jokes. You kiss her.

Half an hour later you're in the kitchen filling three mugs and a spill proof cup with hot chocolate. You take them all into the living room where your sons sit anxiously on the floor in front of the tree and Lisa sits on the love seat with her legs tucked under her. 

"I come bearing fuel for the festivities," you announce dramatically. 

Your youngest looks at you with those blue eyes you were sure you'd never see again. "Hot Chocolate?" he asks. 

"But of course," you say. He hops up and grabs for his cup. "Hey, be careful. Just cause yours won't spill doesn't mean the others won't." 

"Sorry, Daddy." 

"S'okay." 

You hand Ben and Lisa their mugs and then take your place next to Lisa. She cuddles up against you and you kiss her head. 

"So did you both pick out the first one you're going to open?" Lisa asks them. 

They both nod and pick up their gifts, a medium sized one from Bobby and a huge one from Grandma Milton. 

"Okay, then," Lisa says, sitting up a little more. "On the count of three. One...two...three!"

The boys rip into the presents at lightning speed. The gift from Bobby is a model car set and the one from Grandma Milton is a Mickey Mouse TV Set with a matching DVD player. The boys ooh and aww then attack the rest of the gifts until the living room resembles a battleground of wrapping paper. 

"Hey," Ben says. "There's one more under here." He crawls under the tree and pulls out the package. "It's for you," he says to his brother. "From Daddy." 

Your heart races as he takes the gift from Ben. He looks at you with a smile and then starts to open it slowly. Lisa hugs you and kisses your jaw. 

"Wow!" your son exclaims when he pulls the old sweater out of the box. "This is for me?" 

"Sure is," you say.

He grins and jumps into your lap, throwing his arms around your neck. "Thank you, Daddy. I love it." 

You wrap your arms around him and hug him tight. "You're welcome, Cas."


End file.
